


Hail Loki, Fleet of Foot

by Palefire73



Series: Loki Origins [40]
Category: Frigga - Fandom, Loki - Fandom, Norse Gods - Fandom, Thor - Fandom, Tyr - Fandom, odin - Fandom
Genre: Arguments, Gen, Parental Expectations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-04
Updated: 2018-08-04
Packaged: 2019-06-21 17:59:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15563343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Palefire73/pseuds/Palefire73
Summary: One of the dedications to make when communicating with the Trickster is to make reference to his attribute of swiftness and that is where the title - and some of the story - has come from. This one explores the expectations and manipulations involved in moulding a child to become what his father - and King - wants him to be, and the potential consequences it might bring.





	1. Nose

“I will lead the Red Team, Weaponsmaster!” Shouted Odin as he strode into the arena. He was looking resplendent as the King of Asgard and Protector of the Nine Realms, being dressed in his finest battle armour and his golden helmet which also served as the Crown when at war. Everyone who was present in the training arena stopped what they were doing and stared before quickly placing their arms over their breast in the Asgardian Salute; Odin had been expected to attend this occasion, but not as a competitor! The event that Odin had invited himself to was a friendly competition being held between students of various year groups and was to be a measure of their prowess in battle. There were different disciplines involved in order to make it more like a real battle, with swordsmen, archers and specialists in other weapons such as the Morningstar all joining in. However, it was also being used as a test for some and they had been given specific weapons to use. Loki had been given a broadsword and he was not very happy about it.

 

“Stop gawking like imbeciles!” Shouted the All Father, “There have been no major wars of late and I do not wish my fighting skills to go rusty. Nominate a leader for the Blue Team so we can choose our warriors!” He had decided on a whim to join in to see if he could show the students a thing or two about hand-to-hand combat and war strategy and was quite looking forward to it. As he pulled a red tabard over his armour, he almost felt like a student again and his level of excitement went up as he strode over to one side to await the choosing of sides.

 

“Very well, your Highness,” nodded the Weaponsmaster, “I will lead the Blue Team.”

“Oh, indeed?!” Laughed Odin, “A most interesting decision.” This was even better! He had battled the Weaponsmaster on many an occasion in training and they had managed, even after all this time, to keep a rough tally of who had bested the other each time. As it had turned out, they were very evenly matched. “So be it. Now, let us choose our warriors…” he lost no time in making his first choice, “Thor, to me!” The middle Prince grinned and ran to join his father, winking at Loki and Tyr as he passed them to stand proudly next to him.

“Prince Tyr.” Announced the Weaponsmaster and there were rumbles of approval from the students; Thor versus Tyr in a competition should make for a very interesting event! Loki stood tall and squared his shoulders as he awaited his name, then as he saw Odin’s hand lift up in a beckoning gesture, he almost started forward, delighted with the prospect of battling alongside his father and favourite brother. However, he stopped himself as a strange feeling of intense rejection washed over him. He shook his head as the feeling passed, but when Odin called out “Arvid, to me!” and the boy from his drama class walked proudly over to join his King, his heart sank and he looked at Thor despondently. Thor met his gaze with a puzzled look and shrugged his shoulders in confusion as the Weaponsmaster called out “Lady Sif, to me!” Trying to swallow the humiliation of being overlooked, the youngest Prince crouched down to unnecessarily re-lace a perfectly tied boot in an unconvincing attempt at nonchalance.

 

“Ready to do battle with a ‘demented female’ Thor?!” jested Sif as she passed him to join the Blue Team.

“More than ready, my Lady!” Grinned Thor and he slammed his gauntleted fists together, laughing, but the laughter soon died away as he caught a glimpse of Loki’s hurt expression before it was quickly masked.

 

Of course, it was only to be expected that the older, bigger, stronger and more experienced students would be chosen for the teams first, but it did not make the younger students feel any better. By the time there were four warriors chosen for each team and only six of the youngest were left, Loki was feeling rotten and wondering whether he actually wanted to take part in this stupid competition anyway. When Odin chose one of the bigger boys left for his team over Loki again, Thor’s frown deepened and even one of his friends nudged him to ask what their King was playing at.

 

“Loki, to me!” Called the Weaponsmaster at long last – even though there were now just three students to choose from. All of the excitement had gone out of the young Prince, however, and it was only Sif’s conspiratorial grin and her cheeky laugh as she said “Let us beat Thor’s sorry behind!” that managed to bring a faint smile to Loki’s face. As he took his place in line with his team mates, Tyr’s large hand settled on his shoulder, “I am glad to have you beside me, brother.” he said warmly and Loki began to feel better again; he did not need to be on Odin’s team to show what he was made of!

 

The battle had simple rules: Full training armour was to be worn, wooden swords were to be used because of the younger students involved and the ‘tap’ surrender was to be observed at all times.

 

Thor and the rest of the team put on their red tabards over their armour and trooped onto the field. Right behind them was the Weaponsmaster’s blue team, including Loki, Tyr and Lady Sif and a good mix of others. The idea was that the warriors defended their King, just as they would if they were nearing the end of a battle: reds defended Odin and blues defended the Weaponsmaster. Whichever King was reached by an enemy warrior first would be declared as the defeated King and the other team would be victorious. If, whilst fighting, someone was forced into having to submit to the enemy by using the “tap” surrender, then they had to leave the field as they were assumed to be “dead”.

 

No one could have predicted Loki’s ferocity in that competition. His sword skills were abysmal; his swing was sloppy and wide open, leaving his defence almost non-existent. Yet his speed and his determination were incredible and they were of great advantage to him, enabling him to dodge larger and slower opponents, slowing them down through causing them great effort and then leaving them for his team mates to defeat more easily. Because he was so much smaller than a lot of those on the field, it was not long before he ran pell-mell into the ranks of the depleted enemies and managed to dodge most of the strikes aimed at him. By the time he leapt at Odin and impaled the King’s red tabard with the tip of his wooden sword, he had earned a ripped blue tabard of his own, a broken nose where a much older opponent had swung a badly aimed sword towards him and many other bruises and scrapes where he had managed to just about avoid close fighting enough to slip through and get past each enemy. Odin held up his gauntleted hands, dropped his own wooden sword and knelt at Loki’s feet with his head bowed, indicating the battle was over.

 

As the Young Prince looked down at the “dead” King before him, a thrill such as he had never felt before coursed through his veins along with his rushing blood, pumped along by a racing heart. He had won! Despite being looked over time and again, and especially by his own father, he had emerged as the victor. As he stood there panting heavily, with crimson blood streaming from his broken nose, he never once took his blue eyes from the bowed head of his father, not until his team mates arrived yelling and cheering and the claps on his back began. All of a sudden, he found himself hoisted onto the shoulders of Tyr and he looked down into the impressed eyes of the ferocious Lady Sif, only to be carried off to be paraded around the ground as the victor, his broken nose still dripping blood down over his widely grinning mouth, staining his teeth red and ruining the remnants of his blue tabard.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Johann Erikson, the Weaponsmaster, sighed inwardly as he saw his King, Odin All-Father, arrive to watch the training session that was being held this morning. All of the students had been doing very well; their skill level was of no concern to him and he was confident that they would progress to the next level with a bit of hard work and determination. However, there was a significant absence which he knew would not go unnoticed: Prince Loki. The younger of the Odinson Princes had not turned up for practice for a week now and word of it had obviously reached the King’s ear. He nodded respectfully as he saw Odin beckon him and he started to make his way over to where he was sitting.

 

“Keep at the advance swing!” He shouted, “Move on to the mannequins in five minutes. I want to see their stuffing flying out of them!” Walking out of the middle of the training area, he approached Odin.

“Your Highness. I trust you are well?” He asked as he removed his gauntlets and saluted in the Asgardian Warrior style.

“Yes, Johann, I am, thank you.” Replied Odin, and he gestured in the direction of the young students, who ranged from around five years to nine years old. He smiled as he watched them, “Training is going well, I see.”

“Er… yes. And no.” Said Johann, sighing, “You must have noticed Prince Loki is not here.”

“I confess that is the reason for my visit.” Odin’s face betrayed his concern, yet it was measured with the coldness he often displayed when not happy with a situation, “It has come to my attention that he has started to miss swordsmanship lessons.”

“Yes, Your Highness, just these last few days…”

“A week, I was informed…”

“Yes, Sire, a week today.” Johann sighed again, “He has been trying so hard, too. I do not understand his motive; he cannot hope to improve if he does not attend.”

“How bad is he?” Asked Odin, getting straight to the point as always.

“I am afraid the sword is not a weapon that Loki has taken to very well. He quite often comes down here to watch Tyr and Thor train with the other students in their age group and as you know, they have been using real blunted swords for some time now.”

“Yes, and making excellent progress I believe?”

“Yes, Your Highness, they are. Especially since they attended at the Royal Training Academy. I am very proud of them!”

"Mmm, indeed. But what does all this have to do with Loki skipping these lessons?”

“Well, Sire, ever since he was victorious in the Defend The King battle we held a few weeks ago, he has been coming here determined to improve his sword skill.” Johann frowned, “But I am afraid he just has not made any progress. It is not through lack of enthusiasm – he has plenty of that, as well as great speed. It is his technique. It is awful, truly awful. Of course, it is because he is only young and has lack of experience, but I think he expected to suddenly be as good as Tyr once he had won that battle. He has taken the fact that he still needs to put in a lot of hard work to hone his skills very badly.”

“I see.” Odin regarded his Weaponsmaster. Johann had trained a few generations of Asgard’s guards and soldiers now and the King knew he could trust the man’s judgement when it came to knowing how good a fighter someone would make and which weapon they would best master. “Tell me, Johann, will he ever wield a sword? Will he be competent enough to defend his own life and that of those who fight by his side?” His eye strayed to watch the students carrying out their practice manoeuvres on the straw mannequins.

“Oh yes,” replied the Weaponsmaster, “he will make a great fighter one day, but only if he perseveres and he will need a very good teacher. One who can devote a lot of time to his training and who has great patience so they might discover where his talents for combat lie and then nurture them and help him to excel.”

“So it seems… but none of that excuses his truancy. Thank you Johann.” Odin smiled at the trainer, “These students will make fine warriors!” He clapped the man on his back and left for the Royal Suites to find his Queen. Doubtless she would be able to shed some light on where that wayward Jotúnn had got to…


	2. Teeth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get a bit heated in the House of Odin as Loki's fighting future is debated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, I couldn't wait to post the second half, so it's double bubble today!!
> 
> Author's note: I am going to warn you about the content of this part of the story because it is only fair. In this chapter, I introduce the first time there is a direct conflict between Odin and Loki, and Odin's action will seem extreme to some. 
> 
> However. This is not Marvel. It is certainly not Disney and you are not reading about a cute little Tom Hiddleston here. You are reading about Norse Gods and I am trying to keep the culture of the people who went out on their Vikings in mind. Vikings were usually invasions and conquerings of weaker populations by Nordic warriors and they were not nice and they were not pretty. Thus were their Gods ferocious and harsh in the same manner. 
> 
> It's hard to dehumanise them, because the temptation is to make them a lovely little family and...... I have indulged myself somewhat and done that to a large degree. I know you love it and I know it's cute, but I have an obligation to show that other side too, especially as Loki grows older.
> 
> So, for those of you who will be upset by Odin's actions, please know that I did not write them lightly. They are in there for a reason - to keep him true to the character of a warrior King who was bringing up future Protectors of Asgard and The Nine. 
> 
> Thank you for reading these stories!  
> Laterz, #Loki fans  
> Palefire73  
> x

He found Frigga after a short while of searching. She was in the private section of the Royal Gardens with Loki and his brothers, and it was clear from their actions that they were having a heated discussion. He stopped a little way off and hid behind a large statue to listen in on their conversation.

 

“Loki, please listen to Móðir. You must return to your swordsmanship lessons or you will be punished by Faðir!” Tyr frowned, “Surely you do not want to disappoint him?”

“I cannot use a sword!” Loki’s voice betrayed tears that he had obviously already cried, but it was also laden with suppressed anger, “I cannot swing it correctly, I cannot defend properly, I cannot even hold it in the right manner! How can I possibly hope to fight with one?”

“Loki, brother,” Thor placed a friendly hand on his shoulder and the young Prince looked up at him from a reddened face, “it takes practise! You cannot learn how to fight like a warrior overnight. When you won the team battle the other week, it was an amazing achievement, but it was mostly down to your ability to run – and a large helping of good fortune.”

“Oh, well. Thank you Thor!” spat Loki sarcastically.

“Loki Odinson!” exclaimed Frigga and a downcast look appeared on his face as her disappointment in his attitude registered with him. Her heart melted; this was an incredibly hard lesson to learn, but it was neither the first nor the last time he would have to. Her voice softened, “Loki, my son, please attend the lessons…”

“I do not have to! They are not part of the school day!”

“Loki, please attend the lessons! You are a Prince of the House of Odinson and you will be a King one day. How will you lead your people into battle if you cannot fight? Please, just try your best and at least show willingness to learn. If you do not improve after six months…”

 

“If he does not improve after six months, he can work in the kitchens as a pot washer!” Odin strode over, having heard enough of the conversation to grow irritated about how it was progressing. He grabbed hold of the arm of the young Prince and started to drag him in the direction of the training grounds, “You can return to your lessons now!”

“Faðir, I will accompany him!” announced Thor and Loki grinned at him in relief, his crystal blue eyes fixed on him in admiration. He would help him and things would be all right. He turned to look up at Odin, “Oh please, Faðir, I should very much like that. Tyr and Thor have helped me with the sword in the past; who better to learn from than the best in their classes? Thor has great…”

“Thor is no teacher!” Snapped Odin, “He will not be attending little boys’ sword skill lessons. You will learn to do this on your own!”

 

Frigga stood helplessly with Tyr as they watched the argument develop between her King and their sons. Never had something been so passionately disagreed upon as Loki’s sword skills – or lack of them. This was going to lead to no good; she could feel it, but before she could find a way to divert the inevitable, things suddenly erupted further.

 

“I do not even wish to learn to fight with a greatsword!” Screamed Loki, trying to pull his arm from Odin’s grip, “Just because ‘all Kings must learn to defend their realms’ does not mean it is with such a big ugly weapon!”

“How dare you question the express command of your King?” Roared Odin, his face now ablaze with anger, “You are two months shy of six years old and there are four year olds out there who can already fight better than you…”

“Only with a sword!” interrupted the brown haired Prince, “I can wield a dagger! I am getting better with a bow and arrow and I am learning how to shoot from the saddle!” He managed to wrench his arm from his father’s grasp and the blue fabric of his jerkin ripped at the shoulder as Odin stood almost dumfounded at this sudden show of defiance. “I would have the enemy dead before he got within fifty paces of me. What use his greatsword then?!” Loki’s whole body was trembling with the rush of adrenalin that arguing back with his father had caused; he loved him and only wanted to please him, but on this occasion he was wrong! He raised his chin and stared boldly at the All Father.

 

_Such insolence!_

 

In one swift movement, Odin reached out his hand and slapped Loki across his flushed face. The sound was terrible and droplets of blood appeared on Loki’s tanned skin where the heavy golden rings Odin wore had cut him, shocking him into silence. A small gasp came from Frigga, who so desperately wanted to rush to Loki and comfort him for what had happened. She looked at him with helpless tears prickling at the corners of her eyes, but the look her King threw her made her stay where she was.

 

Thor, however, followed his heart and ran to Loki to slip an arm around him, only to feel the boy’s slim body trembling. “Faðir!” he exclaimed, pulling Loki towards him to comfort him, but then he too became a target for Odin’s wrath.

“Release the boy, Thor!”

He hesitated a moment before obeying the command, but gave Loki’s arm a reassuring squeeze before stepping to one side. His younger brother’s head was hung; his brown hair was in a mess with one of the warrior braids so proudly worn only a short while ago coming undone and his small fists clenched tight by his sides.

 

“The time for soft treatment such as that dispensed in the nursery is over!” Announced Odin in a tone of voice usually reserved for addressing his troops. He had quickly realised this was a pivotal moment in the boys’ development and he had decided to get some things straight. “Thor, you will move permanently into your own suite as of tomorrow since you are an adult, and you…” he took hold of Loki’s arm again, “… you will come with me. We can discuss your training with Johann. You will learn to master the sword – whether you wish to or not!” As he pulled at Loki’s arm to lead him away, the young Prince raised his head to look at him. Three bloody trails had run down his face from where Odin’s rings had cut him, creating a horrible contrast to his skin, which was now looking unusually pale. Biting his lip to fight back the tears that would have shown him to be a weak little boy, he looked up at the controlling King of Asgard and fastened his eyes – which were drained of their usual vibrant blue – upon him before saying “Yes, All Father.” in a flat voice and falling into step behind him like someone being dragged to the gallows.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

“Everyone line up so I can give you a number” Johann watched as the students, ranging from five to mid-teens in age,  quickly stepped into place along one side of the training ground and then he strode along them, “One, two three four… one two three four…” until he reached the end. “Right, if your number is one, go to the East corner, twos go to the South, threes West and fours North.” Once his command had been carried out, he announced the exercise they were about to do. Bisecting the area with a line of white chalk powder, he told them “Those students in the East, you must battle those in the North! South is versus West and you are all to do battle for half an hour or until victory. Capture the flag of your opponents to win. Wooden broadswords only, but students over the age of nine can have the weighted handled ones. Two teams this side of the chalk and two teams on the other. Clear?” Upon seeing nods from most of them, he decided the others would quickly catch on and he pointed to the weapons, “Off you go!” he laughed and they all ran over to grab a broadsword and a shield from the array of equipment there before returning to their part of the training ground. There were tabards in a box of the same colour as the flag in their corner, which they quickly pulled on and then waited for Johann to make the signal.

 

“On my mark!” He shouted, watching for them all to be ready, “Let battle commence! Fight! Fight to win! Winners feast for days, losers rot for eternity! Fight for that flag!” As the students rushed across the ground and began their battles, he continued to shout encouragement and very soon other students began to arrive to spectate, including those from Thor’s class. They were not involved today, having been out on a field trip, but were eager to watch all the same. The Golden-haired Prince quickly spotted Loki in the mêlée and pointed him out proudly to his friends, who all started to shout and cheer him and his team on. As they watched, Thor had to give Loki credit; despite his hatred of this particular weapon and his unrefined fighting style, he was once again throwing himself into the battle. However, despite the weeks of extra training he had undergone since the shaming he had suffered in the Royal Gardens at Odin’s hands, his fighting technique was still terrible. He clearly found the sword cumbersome and as a consequence his swings were very wide in an effort to gain some sort of momentum. Unfortunately, this was predictable to any “foe”, who could see what was coming and then block him easily, or even counterattack. All of the extra effort quickly tired his slim frame out and his sword strokes became even sloppier, missing their marks dreadfully. So it was of little surprise when, recovering from a downward swing, he turned around and met an opponent’s elbow head-on with great force. The collision knocked two of his teeth straight out of his mouth and he fell, pole-axed, straight to the ground, landing with an almighty thud. The Weaponsmaster, who had been keeping an eye on the Prince, immediately blew a whistle to cease the fighting and ran over to where he lay in an undignified heap. Seconds later, Thor, who had vaulted over the wall and run like the wind arrived and it was his worried face that Loki saw first as he blinked his eyes open, sat up painfully and spat out a mouthful of blood. Tyr had also come over and he and Thor each took an arm to hoist Loki to his feet, but his legs gave way as his head span and he saw stars.

 

“Ahhh…” he groaned.

 

Almost on the point of passing out, Loki felt his brothers’ arms tighten around him and then all was a blur as they half carried, half dragged him to the Royal Healing Rooms, where Eir examined him. He was prescribed rest and quiet and she shooed everyone out as another healer helped Loki to bathe off the dirt of the arena and then dressed the wounds he had sustained. He was given a bed in the private wing of the healing rooms and he fell straight into the arms of the sleepmaidens, leaving the aches and pains of the sword-fighting and tooth loss behind him.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

The two teeth that had been knocked out of Loki’s mouth were retrieved from the dirt of the arena and placed in a jar by Frigga, which she put in a cabinet in her circular room in the high tower. It joined two other jars which contained the baby teeth of Tyr and Thor. Of course, she had not expected Loki’s first tooth to be knocked out of his head, but she was going to collect them for him, just as she had for Tyr and was still doing for Thor. Closing the door of the cabinet, Frigga decided to go to visit Loki again. She had been to see him the previous day shortly after the incident, but he had been fast asleep and she had decided not to disturb him; he would need all the rest he could get to recover from the battle he had been taking part in before his rather violent accident. The Senior Healer, Eir, had told her that he would be all right soon and that his adult teeth would be unaffected by the blow he had received to his face, but it had been a horrible experience for both Loki and his family.

 

Frigga was worried about more than his teeth, however. There were other things about her son that she wanted to know about and it seemed the ideal opportunity to ask now that Loki was under the care of the Healers. Ever since that horrible day in the gardens when Odin had slapped Loki across the face for his insolent remarks and defiance, the pallor of his skin and the way his eyes had become an icy blue colour instead of their normal rich hue had bothered her. It was as if he no longer wanted to match the ruddy features that Odin and Thor had in common, as if he did not want to look like someone who would strike another for standing up to someone who was bigger and stronger than them. She was worried that the part of his heritage that had caused him to shape shift to look like Odin when he had first found him might now be responsible for making him change into someone different. The Queen asked Eir about Loki’s unnaturally pale colour and the iciness of his eyes, but all the Healer could say was that his vital signs were all perfectly normal and healthy for a young Jotúnn. Eir was one of only a few that knew of Loki’s true heritage, a fact he had not yet discovered for himself, and Frigga trusted her implicitly; she would just have to hope that this new strange appearance would not last.

 

She drew her blue shawl about her shoulders to ward off the relative cool of the evening and made her way down the spiral stairs of the tower to go to the healing rooms to see Loki, hoping that he would be awake and possibly even undergoing an assessment to determine if he was well enough to be discharged. Something needed to be done about this whole situation, from Odin’s bullying of the young Prince into extra training that was clearly not working, to the injuries he was sustaining in both training and in event battles. For one, he was going to look ridiculous at his sixth birth celebration with no front teeth and for two, it was just not right that Odin would probably allow all of this to simply continue in the misguided belief that it would mould Loki into a typical Asgardian Warrior King just like he hoped for Tyr and Thor.

 

Frigga would have her say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was there a pivotal moment in your childhood when you realised that it wasn't all roses? Mine was when a girl at school who was bigger than me pulled my hair hard and threatened me because my mum owned the local grocers. Then her friends surrounded me, terrifying me. They told me I had to steal sweets for them.
> 
> I was eight.
> 
> I told my mum and she was the absolute best. No fuss, just a simple complaint to the school. The girl and her friends apologised to me the next day and they never bothered me again. I was lucky because I had a great parent on my side, and I suppose she was my "Frigga", because she always had my back. She never spoiled me and she disciplined me when needed, but she was, and still is, my rock. 
> 
> Love you mum  
> xxx

**Author's Note:**

> This is a two-part story because I think Loki liked the way I was taking it and generously gifted me the words to create something longer than I originally intended.


End file.
